Nightmares
by Sam.J.Eller
Summary: After the events of the second trial, Sam is plagued with night-terrors. Dean is the only one who can save him from the horror of the memories entrapping his mind. Post 8x19 Taxi Driver. Hurt/Traumatized/Sam and Protective/Big Brother/Dean.
1. Chapter 1

Note: Set after the 2nd trial, post Taxi Driver (8.19). Rated T for some language and frightening memories.

* * *

In retrospect, I should have seen it coming.

You don't take a day trip to hell and return unscathed.

I should have predicted that the latest trial would bring about a lot of dark memories for my little brother.

It didn't matter that he hadn't gone back to the cage; entering hell was enough for those horrific recollections to move to the forefront of the kid's mind.

I hadn't even taken the trip and I was already trying to re-bury all the memories of my time there.

So when Sam bolted up in bed screaming out in terror…I shouldn't have been surprised.

But I was.

Although I was shocked awake by the screams from my little brother, I knew instantly what was going on with him and I immediately clambered out of my bed and rushed over to his.

"Sam! It's okay. You're okay!" I hollered over the noise, as I came into his view.

I didn't get too close though, Sam may have been weaker since the second trial, but he was still lethal, especially when he thought he was under threat.

"Sam! Sammy, it's me!" I tried again, taking a cautious step closer.

The screaming continued, the sound making me cringe. Sam had woken up from many nightmares in his lifetime, and sometimes he came awake screaming, but never like this, never this desperate or this terrified.

"Sammy, come on man! Snap out of it!" I ordered loudly, watching as the young man before me continued to flail and holler

Sam's eyes flashed up and met mine for a second, and the instant I saw them I knew he wasn't seeing or hearing me. His eyes were filled with fear and pain. I knew that awake or not he was still trapped in his memory, still reliving whatever horror had been plaguing his mind.

As the kid fought in an uncoordinated and unaware form, my concern grew that he was going to hurt himself so I approached him quickly, avoiding the swings at my face, and slid behind the terrorized young man.

I wrapped my arms around Sam, pinning his hands to his chest as I pulled him back to rest against me.

He tried to fight me, his screams escalating as he struggled.

"Sammy! Stop it man. Come on, it's just me, little brother. You're alright. You're safe. It's just me." I urged into his ear, desperate to stop the shrieking and to pull him from the evil place he was imprisoned in.

Sam continued fighting clumsily, but desperately, to escape form my restraining embrace.

"Sammy, stop it. Please!" I begged, my voice cracking as tears slid from my eyes.

It killed me to see my brother suffering, and not being able to save him, not being about the bring him back to me and make him feel safe.

The fighting stopped as suddenly as it had begun, the scream dying down to a gasping sob.

"That's it kiddo. You're here, you're here with me. You're safe. I'm here." I vowed as I waited for my little brother to calm down and get a grip on reality.

"You're okay, buddy. You're alright." I soothed slowly rocking back and forth as Sam's sobs shook his thin body.

"I got you, Sammy." I promised as I held onto him.

I didn't know how long we sat there for, how long I held him and whispered reassurances into his ear, how long he sobbed and shook before his crying tapered off and his tear-stained face was pressed up against me.

"Dean." Sam whispered, wiggling his left hand free from my now loose grip and resting it against my chest, gripping my shirt.

I felt a stab of guilt as his hand rested near my neckline, where the amulet used to be. I thought perhaps that was what he had been looking for when he gripped onto my shirt.

"Yeah Sammy, I'm right here." I replied softly, brushing the ridiculously long hair from my little brother's face.

"Oh gawd, Dean." Sam moaned miserably.

"I'm sorry, buddy." I whispered, brushing his tangled hair with my fingers.

"Not your fault." Sam replied steadily, looking up at my face for the first time since being coherent.

His eyes no longer carried that fear and pain that they had when he had been screaming, but they held a dark haunted look; a shadow that I knew he always carried with him, one that had reemerged thanks to the latest trial.

Those fucking trials

"I shouldn't have let you go back." I said in a tone dripping with regret.

"Had to, had do the second trial, had to save Bobby." Sam insisted, his voice hoarse from screaming.

"It was supposed to be me." I choked out past the lump in my throat, swiping furiously at the tears that escaped from my eyes.

"Get your head out of your ass, Dean. Everything is not about you."

I looked in surprise at my little brother as he extracted himself from my grasp and sat up across from me, staring intently.

"It was my choice to do the trials."

"No, you just happened to do the first one because I screwed it up." I stated angrily.

"You didn't screw up."

I threw Sam a disbelieving expression.

"Even if the first trial was kind of an accident, I still made the decision to keep going with it, not you." Sam rasped.

"I shouldn't have let you." I sighed, taking in the thin, exhausted, haunted, young man sitting before me.

"You couldn't have stopped me." Sam declared, giving me an even look.

"I can do this." He insisted after I gave no response.

"I know you **can** do it Sam, but you shouldn't have to." I argued; my self-loathing feelings rising as I felt the guilt of the entire situation. If I wasn't such a screw-up, I would be doing the trials, and Sammy would be safe.

"Dean." Sam waited for eye-contact before continuing. "I know you wanted to take this, and I appreciate that, I really do. But this fell on me, and I can do it." My little brother implored. "But not without you." He finished, staring at me with those wide puppy dog eyes.

I nodded in solidarity.

"I'm with you Sammy, I'm always with you." I declared.

"Good, cause I might need you to carry me." Sam replied with a smirk, referencing the quote I had made to him earlier.

"Dude, how fucked up are our lives that we can relate them to Lord of the Rings?" I muttered with a role of my eyes.

Sam released a soft chuckle in return, the best sound I had heard in a while.

We sat quietly for a few moments until I noticed Sam's eyes drooping. The kid must have been exhausted, not only did he take a trip to hell, but he came back carrying a soul. I knew how draining that could be.

"Alright kiddo, you need to get some shuteye."

Sam's eyes widened immediately at the comment.

"I don't know if that's a good idea." He mentioned quietly.

"You'll be alright."

Sam shook his head.

"You need some sleep man. I'll be right here." I reassured.

The tired man glanced about the room uneasily before nodding reluctantly.

"That's my boy." I smiled, sliding out of the bed and gently pushing Sam down onto the pillow.

He released a long sigh as he looked up at me in concern.

"You'll be alright, Sammy." I encouraged softly, brushing his hair to the side, being reminded of the many times in our past I had spent trying to get him back to sleep after nightmares.

Sam bit his lip, the way he did whenever he was discouraged, even back when he was less than four feet tall. I smirked at the way my little brother could still remind me so much of the young child he had once been.

"Just close your eyes Sam, I'll be here." I promised as I stood beside the bed, watching him attempt to fight sleep.

Less than a minute later Sam's eyelids had slid closed without his permission and he was fast asleep. I stood over him for a few minutes, watching my little brother rest, looking for signs of distress and hoping that he would be able to get a night of decent sleep. God knew the kid needed it.

I was glad we hadn't made the trip back to the bunker. Don't get me wrong, I loved having my own room, but when it came to dealing with my kid brother's nightmares, it was a much easier task when he was sleeping less than two feet away.

When it seemed that perhaps Sam would be good for the night, I dropped back onto my bed and fell asleep to the quiet sound of my little brother's breathing.

I was not awoken in that same comforting manner.

Sam's screams resembled those of a victim of torture, which was exactly what I believed was happening in his head. This time Sam not only howled in the same soul-crushing manner, but he also catapulted out of his bed.

I rushed to my little brother, desperate to stop the screaming and rid of the look of horror obscuring his expression.

At my approach, Sam did something that took me by surprise.

I knew by the look in his eyes and the clumsiness of his movements that the frightened man was living in a memory, so when I hurried towards him I had been prepared for an attack. I had been prepared to block the blows and avoid the swinging arms. I had been prepared to restrain him.

What I had not been prepared for was having Sam cower away from me.

When the kid noticed me advancing towards him, he choked on a cry and stumbled backwards, collapsing to his knees. Instead of trying to get back up he remained in his kneeled position and hunched in on himself, ducking his head.

The hollering had stopped; something I had thought that I wanted, but what replaced it tore at my heart in a completely new way.

Sam was hunched over and shaking as he pleaded for his life.

"Stop. Stop. Please. Please don't. Please leave me alone." The words were barely audible, being obscured by sobs and the raspy tone of his voice, but I had no trouble hearing them.

I hardly recognized the young man in front of me. Sam had always been a fighter, no matter how scared or injured he might have been. The image of my little brother shying away and pleading for his life was one that was new to me. An image that would never leave me. And an image I needed to stop right fucking now.

"Sammy, buddy it's me. It's just me." I soothed, taking a step closer and watching him flinch because of it.

"Come on Sammy. You're here with me. I'm right here." I assured as I dropped to my knees once I was within arm's reach of the confused kid.

I stretched out and laid a gentle hand on the shaggy head, carding my fingers through the long hair.

Sam came back to the present at the feel of my touch, uncurling himself and looking up at me with wide tearful eyes.

"Dean." He cried, launching into my arms as though he were no bigger than a young child.

"Yeah Sammy, it's me, kiddo." I sighed in relief, feeling his long arms latch around me as mine did the same around him. I felt his hair tickling my face as he hooked his chin over my shoulder.

"It was so real." Sam whispered as he clung tighter to me, his arms shaking as he gripped me.

"It wasn't. You're right here with me, I got you little brother." I promised.

For a second I thought that maybe these weren't simply nightmares; that perhaps these were hallucinations, but then I recalled a period of time after Sam remembered hell. He would wake from nightmares so violently and it always took me awhile to get him to stand down and realize that he wasn't being threatened or harmed, that he wasn't in the cage.

I could tell by the duration and the way he behaved that Sam was not hallucinating, but experiencing night-terrors. And I really fucking hated it.

"Sorry." Sam hiccupped into my ear as his sobs finally subsided.

I pulled back immediately, holding my brother at arm's length with a hand resting on the back of his neck, making sure he was looking at me before I spoke.

"Don't you ever apologize for this kind of shit, just don't, not ever." I insisted strongly, making sure my kid got what I was saying.

Sam nodded slowly in understanding as I thumbed the tears from his face.

"This is so stupid, I feel like I'm five." He huffed as he made the effort to climb to his feet.

I stood with him, a firm grip on his forearm as he wobbled unsteadily.

"Dude, you were not this much work when you were five." I joked as I gently pushed him down onto the bed.

Sam sat heavily on the edge of the mattress, with his head in his hands.

"Will this night ever end?" He muttered in exhaustion.

"Yeah buddy, it will." I stated, sitting beside him and patting his knee.

"Doesn't feel like it." Sam replied with a sigh.

"Come on Sammy, we've been through nights like this before. We'll get through. We always do." I pointed out calmly.

"That doesn't make them suck any less."

"No it sure as hel…shit doesn't." I stuttered out.

"You can say 'hell' Dean; I'm not going to break." Sam replied with a tiny bit of a smile.

"Yeah well, I think you've had enough reminders of that place to last you a fucking lifetime, Sam, so I'd rather not add to it." I said in frustration.

"I'm fine, Dean."

"No, little brother, you are definitely not, but you will be." I added as a promise.

Sam nodded in response as he stared absently at the wall, his mind likely racing with all sorts of horrible things.

"Sam." I called softly, moving to squat down in front of him. I waited for him to focus his tired gaze on me before I spoke again.

"You want to talk about…about your…your dreams?" I asked nervously, not sure how to word the question, and not sure I actually wanted to hear about the memories that had been the cause of his night terrors.

Sam shook his head instantly.

"You sure? It might help to talk about it." I offered.

"No Dean, it won't. I…it just won't." Sam refused.

"It helped me."

Sam's eyes widened at my confession.

"When I told you about what happened in hell, about what I did. I mean at the time it was shitty, but it helped to get it out…it helped me move past it." I admitted quietly.

My brother sat silently looking at me, analyzing me with his searching stare.

"Dean…I…its…I don't want to…to put that on you." Tears welled up in the kids eyes as he looked away from me.

"Sam, I can handle it. Whatever it is, I swear I can handle it, little brother." I insisted, completely understanding the young man's fear of burdening me with the weight of his memories. I had felt that same fear myself once.

"I'm not ready." He rasped, blinking the tears from his eyes and glancing at me.

"That's alright, Sammy." I said, patting his hand and giving him a reassuring smile.

"But when you are ready, I want you to know that there is nothing you can't tell me. There's nothing you could say that would ever make me think any less of you." I insisted.

"It's not that…" Sam's shaky voice faded away, unable to find the right words.

"I can handle the weight. You took part of mine; let me take part of yours. Let me make it better." I pleaded.

The younger man looked at me a long moment with a watery gaze, before shaking his head and burying it into his hands.

"When you're ready, little brother, when you're ready." I whispered, placing a quick kiss on his shaggy head as I stood. Before I could take more than two steps away, I felt long thin fingers lock around my wrist. I looked down at Sam who was still gazing intently down at the carpet. I stood there staring, waiting for him to speak.

"I just…need time." Sam whispered quietly, wiping discreetly at his eyes.

"I know buddy. I'm just worried, it has been a long time already…and I just don't want you to bury this all again." I mentioned in concern.

I had allowed Sam to get out of talking about his experience in hell back when he first remembered; partly because of his refusal to discuss it, but also because at the time his wall was broken and the kid's sanity had been on the rails. By the time my brother would have been able to talk about the cage, he had already buried all the memories deep inside himself and I didn't want to go poking at them, because he had seemed to be dealing okay.

Now was different, now all the memories were fresh and I wanted to get him talking before he had the chance to shove every one of them deep down inside. Because I knew what that was like. I knew the way those memories weighed on you and the way they ate at your soul when you didn't deal with them.

"We are going to talk about it, Sam." I announced with calm conviction, officially deciding that I was going to make him talk, even if I had to pry the words from his throat.

My brother's body went stiff as he stared at his feet.

"But not tonight kiddo. Another time, when you're feeling up to it." I assured gently, placing the hand that wasn't locked in my little brother's grip onto his bony, ridged shoulder.

Sam nodded without looking up. Understanding what I was saying.

"Tonight, you need to get some shuteye."

He looked up instantly and made to reject, but I continued.

"You have to try. Those trials have you messed up enough as it is. It'll only get worse if you don't get any sleep." I pointed out.

"I'm Fi—

"Cut the bullshit, kid. You may be the smart one, but I'm not a moron, and I'm not blind. I can tell that these trials are screwing with you, messing with your health. And we have no idea what is coming next. So you need all the rest you can get." I lectured.

"Rest isn't going to fix me Dean." Sam said with a long sigh.

"Well it sure as shit ain't going to do you any harm." I argued.

"Ha! Clearly." Sam laughed humourlessly. I was not impressed with his sarcasm and I let him know so with my expression.

"Come on buddy, just lie down." I ordered softly, pulling my wrist from my little brother's grip and gently pushing him into a horizontal position.

Before I could get him lying down, Sam was swatting at my hands.

"Knock it off." He demanded petulantly.

"No Sam, cut it out." I replied in frustration.

"Dean." He said louder, grabbing my forearms and staring up at me with those big puppy dog eyes.

"I can't do it again, I can't handle those dreams." He admitted, as a hard shiver ran through his body.

"You won't have to, buddy." I assured, letting him see the certainty in my face before bending down and lifting his long legs onto the bed.

"How do you know?" Sam asked uneasily.

"Just trust me, little brother." I said with a smile.

Sam smirked as he looked up at me curiously.

Once I had him lying comfortably I tugged the covers up around him, swiping his hair from his face.

"Dean, I'm not a child. You don't have to tuck me in." He whined.

"Shut-up, Sam." I quipped, walking over to my bed and grabbing the remote for the crappy TV in the corner and my pillow.

"Scoot over sasquatch." I ordered, dumping my pillow on the right side of the bed, closest to the door.

"No Dean you don't have to—

"Shut-up, Sam." I said, forcefully nudging the kid over as I dropped onto the bed.

Sam watched me get settled and then rolled his eyes.

"This is your plan? You think that you snoring in my ear all night is going to keep me from having nightmares?"

"Shut-up, Sam." I sighed, flipping on the television.

"Go back to your bed Dean, really I'm—

"Shut-up, Sam."

"You're getting a little repetitive." Sam huffed.

"Shut—

"I get it!" Sam interrupted in aggravation, switching his attention to the infomercial.

I smirked in amusement as I placed the remote on the rickety side table and laid back in the bed with my arms behind my head, lazily watching an advertisement for the latest vacuum.

It took longer than I thought it would, but by about ten minutes later Sam had slowly maneuvered himself directly by my side. Curled up so his forehead pressed against my hip as he distractedly picked at a hole in the knee of my sweatpants.

"Shut your eyes, Sammy." I requested softly.

"Can't…I'll be in…I'll be back there." Sam informed me in a haunted whisper, one that made my heart clench.

"No you won't, you'll be here with me." I reasoned confidently, combing my fingers through the mess of hair belonging to my kid brother, a strategy I had developed many years ago in order to comfort him.

Sam remained quiet and he continued to pick at my pants, but his movements slowed as I continued to drag my fingers through his brown locks.

Three infomercials later his breathing was even and his hands still, but he continued to force his eyes open, regardless of how frequently they drooped. I rolled my eyes at the stubbornness of my baby brother.

"Close your eyes, Sammy." I ordered softly.

"I'm scared. I don't want to go back there." Sam admitted, the catch in his throat had my protective instincts surging as I continued to comfort him the best way I could.

"You're not going anywhere, I got you little brother. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you, not even in your dreams." I vowed.

"You can't control my dreams, Dean." Sam pointed out sleepily.

"When are you going to learn kiddo? I'm your big brother, there's nothing I can't protect you from, nothing." I reminded him.

Looking down I felt content at the sight of the small dimply smile that crossed Sam's face.

"Now close your eyes and get some rest." I urged once again.

Sam released a long sigh, glancing over at me briefly before dropping his arm over my legs and reluctantly letting his eyelids fall closed.

"I got you, little brother." I whispered, watching Sam give in to his body's desire for sleep.

It was less than an hour later, during an advertisement for some dumbass cat toy, when the peaceful rest my little brother was enjoying began to alter.

At first I just thought he was shifting, he had always been a bit of a wiggler. His legs began to twitch against mine, and the arm he had draped across my knees began to move. It wasn't until his hand found a tight grip on my pant leg that I observed the young man more closely.

His face no longer held the peaceful look that had been on it when the kid drifted off. It was now wrinkled in pain and twisted in fear. His breathing was picking up, just a bit, but quickening nonetheless. His head was twitching around and I could feel his forehead pressing closer into the side of my hip.

The release of a small, nearly silent whimper was the last piece of evidence I needed to know that if I didn't do something now we would have a repeat performance of the same situation we had already experienced twice that night.

I shimmied further down the bed and slid an arm around my little brother, pulling him up against me. Sam went with it immediately, whatever was going on in his head was not yet strong enough to stem his instinctual physical reaction to my touch. I maneuvered him carefully, not wanting to wake him, knowing from past experience that it would be better to calm him in his sleep, stop the nightmare before it took control. I gently guided the shaggy head onto me, letting it rest against my collarbone, which was instantly followed by my little brother draping his arm across my chest, but his body was still rigid, still held by his mind.

As he lay against me I lightly rubbed circles on his back, hating how easy it was to feel his spine through his shirt. He had lost weight since the trials began.

Sam's tense body slowly started to relax at my touch and I felt his hand slide up my chest, gripping - for the second time that night - just below the neckline of my shirt.

"Never should have thrown that out. I fucked up, little brother." I cursed myself, knowing that my kid missed the amulet almost as much as I did.

"Dean." He breathed out, almost inaudibly, his face and body immediately going lax at the release of my name, his sleep again peaceful.

"I'm right here Sammy. I'm always going to be right here. I got you little brother." I promised, letting the murmur of the TV and the sound of my kid's breathing lull me to sleep.

Before I drifted off I thought of the conversation Sam and I had waiting for us, where I'd make him tell me about his time in the cage, I thought about the coming trials and the harm they could do to my little brother, but then I pushed all that from my mind.

Because none of it mattered right now.

Right now all that mattered was that my little brother was sleeping soundly.

Right now he was safe.

Right now we were together.

And the rest of the world could wait, because right now, we were okay.


	2. Chapter 2

Just yesterday my little brother had finished the second trial.

The kid had gone to hell, through purgatory, and returned with Bobby's soul in tow…or in him actually…which was disturbing when you thought about it.

I literally shook my head, hoping to clear my mind of that creepy thought.

Because Sammy was okay.

I mean the kid was beat. Yesterday's trial and the following night-terrors had done nothing to help him out.

He was coughing more and eating less.

But he was okay…right?

I clenched my jaw, frustrated with my seemingly useless train of thought.

I glanced to my right at Sam, who was slumped over in the passenger seat. He was staring out the window, but I had a feeling he wasn't really seeing any of the scenery, the young man was far too exhausted.

We were headed back to the bunker so hopefully Sam could get some rest and I could get some kind of lead on where the hell Kevin had run off to.

"You want to pull off and maybe grab a bite?" I asked, for what must have been the third time since we got in the car.

"No, I'm fine." Sam huffed, giving me the same answer he had all day.

"Come on man, you need to eat." I pushed, knowing that he didn't have much yesterday and that he hadn't had anything at all today.

"I'm not hungry Dean, I'm just…" My brother faded off with a sigh.

"Tired?" I filled in, glancing over at him.

Sam just shrugged.

"Well, then why don't you try and get some shuteye?"

Sam sent a bitch look my way.

"You know damn well why, Dean." He bit out.

I nodded my head, because he was right about that. I did know why.

"So you're never going to sleep again because you're afraid of having nightmares?" I asked.

Sam gave me a dark look, as though I had crossed a line, and perhaps I had. But there was no way I was going to just stand by and watch as my little brother faded away.

"Well, is that your game plan? Because I hate to break it to you man, but it's not going to work."

"I never said I wasn't going to ever sleep again, just…not now." Sam finished lamely, turning to gaze back out the window.

"You'll be okay Sammy." I promised with a softer tone, looking over and watching the kid chew on his bottom lip.

"I don't want to have those dreams again." Sam confessed quietly.

"You won't." I stated, feigning all the confidence I could muster.

"You don't know that." Sam said flatly as he proceeded to stare out at the grey sky, watching the water droplets slide down the window.

"You didn't last night, not after I promised you that you wouldn't." I declared, reminding my little brother that I always kept my word, well I tried to anyways.

"Yeah, but that's cause we were..."

Sam faded off with a shrug, clearly not wanting to say the world 'cuddling' aloud, which I was more than inexpressibly grateful for.

"I'm right here." I pointed out softly, patting one of my brother's long legs.

"I know." He conceded quietly, sending me half a dimpled smile, before turning to look back out the window.

"Sam, if you start having one, I'll wake you up." I assured, taking the more reasonable route that I knew Sam preferred.

My little brother glanced over at me uneasily, still biting his bottom lip, it's a wonder that thing didn't get torn up with the amount of time he spent chewing on it.

"I'll be right here. I'll be able to tell if you start having a nightmare. I'll wake you up." I swore, looking over at the nervous man beside me, imploring him to believe me.

I watched out of the corner of my eyes as Sam seemed to be having some sort of internal debate. I could see the fear and anxiety in the lines of his face, but just as strong was the exhaustion making his body slump and his eyelids droop. The question was, which would win.?

After a couple minutes Sam released a long sigh, looking over in my direction.

"Fine, I'll try and get some rest. But do me a favour?"

"Whatever you need, Sammy." I said with a smile, content that my brother was allowing himself to sleep. Maybe after his nap I would have some luck in pushing him to eat something.

"Just be careful when you wake me up, sometimes I don't really know what's happening, and I don't want to hurt you." Sam declared earnestly, watching for my response.

"Ha! Don't flatter yourself kid. You've never been able to take me before, what in the world has you thinking you'll be able to do it when you're half asleep huh?!" I joked.

"I did once." I heard Sam whisper, his tone drenched in guilt.

A memory hit me instantly.

_It was some time after Sam's wall crumbled. The kid hadn't been sleeping much and he'd finally conked out around three am, by four I was awoken by whimpering from the bed furthest from the door. _

_I wasn't surprised, it wasn't the first nightmare since the dam in his head was shattered, and I knew that it wasn't going to be his last. _

"_Sam!" I had called out, hoping to rouse him. _

"_Sammy, Wake Up!" I yelled loudly, releasing a long sigh as I climbed slowly out of bed. _

_I grabbed a hold of my little brother's shoulders and shook him, eager to pull him from his nightmare and end the kid's terror. _

_The next thing I knew I was on the motel room floor with long thin fingers wrapped around my neck. My eyes went wide as I tried and failed to suck in any air. I looked up seeing my little brother's face staring down at me, but even my oxygen deprived mind could tell Sam wasn't with it. He was still living in the world of his dreams. _

_Every hunter instinct I had was screaming at me to fight back, to go on the offense, but my big brother instinct refused to hurt Sammy, and that instinct always overrode all the others. _

_As I tried desperately to suck in air, I mouthed my little brother's name, inwardly cursing when no sound came out. I began to see spots and as I slowly brought my hand up towards Sam, clumsily carding my fingers through his long hair and gently resting my hand on the back of his neck. I squeezed ever so lightly, in the comforting way I always had. _

_Just as I was beginning to feel myself losing consciousness, the pressure on my neck was suddenly released. _

"_Dean." I barely heard the loud sob over my noisy gasp, feeling my lungs burn as they filled. _

"_Dean! I'm so sorry. So sorry. Oh gawd, what have I done?" _

_I wanted so badly to tell Sam that I was okay, to reassure him, but I didn't yet have enough air to do so. Instead I rolled over onto my side, coughing and gasping. I was trying to get a handle on breathing when I felt the same long thin fingers that had been cutting off my air just seconds ago, now gently encircling my arm and pulling me carefully into a sitting position. _

_My eyes watered as I proceeded to try and even out my breathing, made difficult by the constant gasping and coughing. I felt Sam's shaky hand running up and down my back as he muttered a mantra of my name mixed in with a whole lot of apologies. _

"_I'm okay Sammy." I choked out in between laboured breaths. _

_Once I no longer felt like I was going to pass out, and was finally able to take in air slow and steady, I looked over at my little brother. Sam was kneeling by my side, his one hand still on my back while his other had a steadying grip on my elbow, which I hadn't noticed until just then. I looked up at his face, barely able to see it past all that hair, but what I could see made my heart ache. _

_There were tears streaming down my kid's cheeks, his eyes were full of guilt and concern, and his mouth continued to form the word 'sorry' over and over and over again. _

"_Sam, it's alright man. I'm okay." I promised in a much stronger voice than I had been able to use last time. Stronger voice or not, my brother made no acknowledgement that he heard me. _

"_Hey buddy, I'm fine. Look at me kiddo." I ordered, moving to kneel before the young man, placing my hand on his chin and guiding it up. I gently moved Sam's hair from his face so I could get some eye-contact. His gaze was brimming with tears and deep emotion as he brought it up to meet mine. _

"_I am okay, Sam. This was not your fault." I stated clearly._

_He instantly began to shake his head. _

"_Yes it was, I - I hurt you…Dean I'm so sorry. I didn't know it was you. I thought you were…I didn't know … I'm so sorry, so sorry, sorry…" Sam repeated as he looked down at his hands, which were shaking violently in his lap. _

_I reached across and grabbed a hold of both of the trembling appendages, ducking my head to get into my brother's line of sight. _

"_Sam. It is not your fault. I shouldn't have woken you like that. I should have known better—_

"_No, no Dean." Sam interrupted. "I should have known it was you. It's my fault! Oh god, I could have killed you. I'm sorry! So sorry." _

"_Sam, stop!" I ordered loudly. "Can I talk for one second?" _

_He nodded shakily, biting down on his lip to physically put an end to the string of apologies. _

"_Now, look at me." I demanded again. _

_He timidly raised his head, chewing on his bottom lip as his eyes met mine. _

"_I knew you were having a nightmare. I should have found a better way to wake you. I should have paid more attention. This is my fault. Not yours." _

"_I was strangling you! I had my fucking hands around your throat. How the hell is this not my fault?!" Sam snapped loudly, ripping his hands from my grip and glaring down at them hatefully. _

"_Did you mean to hurt me?" I asked, matching his loud volume. _

_Sam looked at me as though he'd been slapped. "No! Of course not!" _

"_Did you know it was me you were choking?" _

"_Hell __no!" _

"_Sam, did you strangle me on purpose?" _

"_No! Dean, I would never do that. I would never intentionally hurt you! If I had known it was you, I wouldn't have done that."_

"_So than how is it your fault?" I asked calmly, watching as understanding dawned upon my little brother's face. _

"_Because I hurt you. It was my hands that were around your neck." Sam said, his voice drenched in self-loathing as he stared again at his shaking fingers, clenching them angrily. _

"_You didn't know!" I yelled in frustration, regretting my tone of voice as I watched Sam visibly shrink away from what he perceived as anger. _

_I grabbed his hands again, unfolding them from their fisted positions as I spoke. _

"_You thought you were defending yourself. And the second you knew who I was, you stopped. I knew that you would stop, that's why I didn't fight back." I waited for my brother to look at my face before continuing. _

"_I know that you would never hurt me, Sammy." I stated with all the conviction in the world. _

_I watched as hope filled my kid's face, his eyes searching mine, seeking the truth. I let him see it, I let all the love I had for the shaggy headed sasquatch shine through, along with the complete and total trust I had in him. _

_A small smile slid onto Sam's face as he found the truth he had been searching for, but the dimples were fleeting as his expression again grew serious. Before I could reaffirm my belief that Sam wasn't to blame, one of his hands was coming towards me, his fingers lightly skimming across my neck. _

"_I could have killed you, De." _

_The voice crack and the shortened version of my name tore into me. I wanted to tell Sam that I loved him more than anything, that I trusted him more than anyone, and that I knew his heart, and because of that I knew that he would never intentionally hurt me. But I'd never been great with emotion, so I settled for a much lighter comment. _

"_Don't flatter yourself kiddo, you're not that good." I replied with a smile. _

_Sam smirked as his hand fell away from my neck. _

"_But in the future I will definitely wake you up a little more carefully. You never were a morning person." _

_My brother released a rueful laugh as he shook his head in disbelief. _

"_How about next time you fight back?" He asked, his expression a little more at ease, but his tone serious._

"_You wouldn't want that, Samantha. I'd have you on your ass in a second." I responded casually as I climbed to my feet. _

"_I don't care. If this happens again you have to promise me that you'll fight back. Whatever you have to do." Sam instructed me, grabbing onto my arm to stop me from walking over to my bed. _

"_How about it just doesn't happen again." I said, knowing that I couldn't make the promise that Sam wanted. _

"_Ha! How are we supposed to do that?" He huffed, dropping onto his bed in frustration. _

"_I'm just going to start throwing things at you in the morning. That way I don't have to get so close, which is good because - little brother - your morning breath is lethal." I mocked. _

"_Yeah and yours is just great." Sam snorted sarcastically as he laid back in his bed. _

"_Shut up, Sam. I smell delicious." _

_The laugh that fell from my baby brother's mouth made me smile like a moron. It was almost worth getting strangled just to hear that stupid laugh. _

_I fell asleep that night watching Sam stare mindlessly at the fuzzy television. I had encouraged him to get some rest, but I hadn't pushed it, because I knew that between his nightmares and hallucinations there was no way his sleep would be peaceful. I also knew that what happened tonight had shaken him on a number of levels and it could be awhile before he trusted himself enough to fall asleep. _

_It never happened again, the nightmares did, but Sam never came at me like that again. But he never forgot it either. The day after it happened I caught him staring at my neck, guilt clouding his features as he examined the light, barely coloured bruise. _

_That was the one and only time I had ever wished that I owned a turtle neck, if just to ease my baby brother's conscience. _

I saw the same guilt in Sam's eyes now, as I had on that night years ago.

"You didn't hurt me, dude. It takes a hell of a lot more than that to take me out. I'm batman." I said with a wink.

"I'm serious, Dean. Just please be careful." Sam insisted

The honest fear in his eyes tore at me, because I knew it wasn't due to his impending dreams, but fear that he would hurt me in some way.

"Don't worry, buddy. I'll be careful." I assured him with a nod of my head, feeling my kid brother's eyes on me, studying me for another moment before he turned to rest against the Impala's passenger door. I fiddled with the radio, stopping once I hit a soft rock station, knowing that was the kind of music that had always been able to knock Sammy right out.

"Jerk." Came the mutter to my right.

"Bitch." I responded with a grin.

It was still raining a couple hours later as I watched the wipers slide back and forth across the windshield. We could have been back to the bunker by now, but Sam had been sleeping for three hours; and if I had to drive around all night, I would do it just so the kid could get some rest.

There had been no sign of any nightmares so far. I was thinking maybe the Impala provided a sense of security, but it wasn't like Sam hadn't had bad dreams when sleeping in it before. Maybe his body was just so worn that his mind had shut down, not allowing for any memories to be played out. Maybe it was the hand I kept on one of my brother's long legs as he rested. Whatever the reason; Sam was finally getting some much-needed sleep, and that alone was a good enough reason for me to take the longest, most scenic route back to the bunker.

Suddenly, I felt my little brother flinch, the hand I had resting on his leg jumping as his entire body jerked.

"Sam." I immediately called out, loud enough that he should have heard me, but the young man made no indication of that as his breathing became erratic.

"Hey! Sammy, wake up!" I ordered, giving the leg I was holding a hard shake, as I tried to maintain some sort of attention on the road.

Again, Sam gave no reaction to my command and began to move around, rolling his head from side to side as his body continued to jerk about.

"Sammy!" I hollered, moving my hand up to his shoulder and shaking him roughly, not bothering to consider the risk I was taking for myself by waking him so aggressively.

Still nothing.

I guided the Impala quickly over the side of the road, putting her in park as I turned to face to my little brother, desperate to bring him out of the memory that had him flinching so violently.

Once Sam began to cry out, I hurried out of the car, rushing around it and opening the passenger door. I squatted down in front of the boy trapped in a night-terror. I yelled at him to snap out of it, shaking him and his only response was to release a blood curdling scream. I was desperate to stop Sam's pain, placing my hand on the back of his neck and my face close to his.

"Sammy. Please wake up!" I choked out, my voice cracking as I begged the kid to come back to me.

The young man's eyes flew open, fear and terror reigning in his expression as he shook violently. I went to place my hands on his chest when he tried to get up, not wanting him to hurt himself. But he slapped them away.

"Get off me!" He cried out, pushing me away as he dived - or more fell - out of the Impala.

I held my hands up in the most non-threatening position I could and took a step back, but not too far, because my kid brother was barely on his feet, shaking so hard I was worried he was going to collapse.

"Sammy it's alright. I'm right here, just calm down." I soothed, watching in confusion as my little brother started pulling at his button up shirt, redding o fit as well as the t-shirt underneath.

"What are you doing, Sam?" I asked, taking a cautious step closer as I watched him staring and feeling all around his chest, his breathing still as panicked as it had been when he was dreaming.

Sam made no sign that he'd heard me, but once he started to claw at his chest, I could not be ignored any longer.

"Sam! Sam, stop it!" I ordered as I moved in. Not giving a shit about my own safety, I reached out, grabbing his hands and holding them against my chest, away from his.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked, looking into his terrified eyes.

"He…He was peeling it." Sam choked out, his gaze remaining focused on his chest.

"Peeling? Peeling what?" I queried, trying to get my brother to look at me so I could figure out what the hell was going on.

"My skin." Sam sobbed, his legs suddenly giving out, causing him to collapse to the ground.

I swallowed down the bile that rose up my throat at the kid's answer, as I grabbed hold of him and eased his decent to the pavement. I angled Sam so he was leaning against the Impala before I squatted down in front of him.

"He can't touch you, buddy. You're here with me. I'm not going to let anything hurt you." I promised.

"He was…he wouldn't stop…I begged him to…but he kept…and god it hurt…so much pain." Sam described in a haunted, stuttered whisper while he stared at his chest, running his hands over it, as though needing proof that it didn't really happen.

"It was just a dream." I reminded him.

"It wasn't…it was a memory." Sam mumbled, looking up at me with wide, frightened eyes.

"I know, but you're safe now." I assured him, my mind searching for a way to make this better for my traumatized little brother.

"He never stopped...no matter how much I begged or screamed. He just kept peeling…and smiling."

My stomach turned at the dark recollection.

As I looked into my brother's eyes, I saw their hazel colour fade behind a cloud of terror. They contained same fear and pain that I had spotted in them twice last night; the same fear and pain that I had seen in them years ago. I remembered that even when Sam had his hand around my throat that night, he hadn't looked hateful or angry, instead his eyes were full of the dread and hurt that I could see in them now.

"He'd peel my skin off so slow and I couldn't do anything but scream."

I knew that Sam was talking about the cage.

That he was doing what I had asked of him last night, and sharing his burden. But as he spoke I could tell that part of him was still there, was reliving what happened through his words. The shattered expression on his face said it all, his agony almost palpable.

I was tempted to look away, not wanting to face my little brother's memories, or hear the stories of his torture, but I knew that wasn't an option. I refused to deny him the little support I was able to provide. So I continued to stare into those heart-wrenching eyes as I slid my hand onto the back of Sam's neck and listened quietly.

"He peeled if off strip by strip until there wasn't any left on my chest…so he'd move to my arms." Sam choked out, while I continued to swallow the bile trying to escape my throat.

"And he'd say he liked it when I screamed…so I'd try not to. I'd bite down on my tongue. But eventual - hours, days, or weeks later - I couldn't stop myself…and I'd scream." Sam recalled, his voice quivering. I felt tears sliding down my face, but did nothing to stop them, knowing the rain would wash them away.

I noticed one of Sam's hands making its way up my chest, stopping to rest where my amulet should have been sitting. A pang of deep regret seared through my soul as Sam's long trembling fingers grabbed hold of my shirt. I knew that he wanted to be gripping the amulet, like he did back when he was younger and searching for comfort, safety, and reassurance. I put my hand over his, as my other hand gently squeezes the back of his neck again. The best way I could think to show that him I was here, and that I was never leaving, all of which the amulet used to say for me.

"I always screamed for you, Dean." Sam croaked, a tear slipping slowly down his face as his watery gaze remained on mine.

I flinched.

I remembered that I had screamed for Sam when I had been in hell. And it killed me knowing that he had done the same for me, for a much longer period of time.

"I'm here now, Sammy, and I'm never going to leave. I'm going to protect you, little brother." I vowed in a voice gruff with emotion.

Sam stared a me a moment before nodding his head, the fear in his eyes diminishing almost completely as a look of love and trust took its place.

It had always amazed me how much the kid trusted me. No matter how often I fucked up, Sam still looked at me with the same trust and adoration that he had back when he was a young child. I felt my heart swell, the love I had for my kid brother filling me up, accompanied by my need to protect him.

I used the hand I had on the back of Sam's neck to pull him towards me, feeling his body slump tiredly against mine as I wrapped my arms around him. It was not long before I felt my brother's long arms responding in the same way, gripping tightly to the back of my jacket as he buried his face against my collarbone, crying softly.

"I got you, buddy. I got you." I whispered in his ear, holding him impossibly tighter.

I didn't care that the hard pavement was digging into my knees, or that I could feel the wet ground soaking my jeans, or that the rain was beginning to fall a little bit harder. I just wanted to make sure my brother felt safe, that he knew I would never let anything hurt him again, no human, angel, or demon, not even Lucifer himself; and if assuring him of that, meant sitting outside in the rain hugging like a couple of girls, than that was what I was going to do.

After a while Sam's breathing evened out and his cries tapered off. It was then that I realized he was no longer trembling with emotion, but had begun to shiver from the cold.

I slowly released my grip on the kid and eased him back.

"You good?" I asked, searching his expression for an honest answer.

"Yeah." Sam croaked, looking at me with puppy dog eyes no longer dominated by terror.

"Good, cause if we sit here much longer we are going to be swimming." I joked.

Sam smirked as we climbed to our feet. I didn't bother picking up his two soaking shirts as I maintained a steadying grip on his elbow and escorted him to the passenger seat.

Once he was seated I closed the door and ran back to the trunk, popping it open and grabbing a sweatshirt from my bag and an old blanket.

"Here, put this on." I instructed, dropping the sweater on Sam's lap, watching a small smile brighten his face as he held it, probably realizing it was one of mine. The kid always seemed to prefer my clothing over his whenever he was sick and/or tired.

Sam slid into the hoodie, his long wet hair dripping onto it once it was on.

"You really need to let me cut off some of that mane, man." I chuckled.

"Not a chance." He replied with a smirk.

"Fine, stick with the drowned rat look." I shrugged, sliding off my wet jacket and tossing it in the back.

I saw another hard shiver run through Sam's body and I dropped the blanket onto his lap.

"Thanks." He said, covering his mouth as he began to cough.

"Sitting out in the cold rain sure didn't help your health any." I muttered as I spread the blanket over him, pulling off his shoes and socks as he continued to hack into his hand.

I made sure the blanket was covering his cold feet as I pulled them up onto the seat, sliding them under my thigh.

I took the Impala out of park and steered her back onto the road as Sam's coughing died down. I glanced over to my right, feeling eyes on me and saw my little brother with the sweater hood pulled over his head, blanket pulled up around him, resting tiredly against the passenger door as he stared at me with a huge dorky smile.

"What?" I asked curiously.

Sam's only response was to begin wiggling his toes.

"Would you rather your feet be freezing?" I threatened, starting to lift up my leg.

"No!" Sam responded quickly, still smiling. "I'm just not used to you being so willing." He added with a chuckle

I smirked because normally Sam would just dig his toes into me, worming his feet underneath my leg; he had been doing that since back when we both shared the backseat.

"You've always had icicle feet." I remarked.

Sam laughed softly as he rested his head back and directed his gaze out the windshield, watching the wipers slide back and forth.

I studied him out of the corner of my eye. My brother looked better, no longer shivering from the cold or trembling in fear, no longer looking haunted by hell or clouded in pain. A shadow remained on his face, hidden in his eyes, but that was what hell did to a person. He still looked tired, and I could tell that he was getting sick. Once we got back to the bunker I was making sure that he was getting a solid night's rest, a full eight hours at the very least. The trials didn't seem to be doing the kid any favours, and I was sure that sitting out in the rain hadn't either.

I cursed myself again for not being the one to take on the trials. It should have been me, not Sammy. But there was nothing I could do about that now. One trial left. Sam would finish it and I would take care of him while he did. Then the gates of hell would be slammed shut and I would make sure that my baby brother got the safest, happiest, most normal life possible.

Because he fucking deserved it.

I took another look at Sam, watching as his tired eyes stared at the road again, feeling his cold feet under my leg, and hearing his steady breathing. Everything he'd been through, all the supernatural sons-of-bitches who tried to taint him - who tried to change him - and he was still here.

He was still my little brother. Still the kid who wore his hair way too long. Still an emotional little girl. Still a temperamental sasquatch. Still the little brat with ice cold feet. Still the stubborn bitch he'd always been. Still the boy desperate to do the right thing.

His heart was as big as ever.

No one and nothing could taint my little brother.

And as I glanced over at him, I felt my heart swelling with pride.

I loved my kid so fucking much it hurt.


	3. Chapter 3

Don't get me wrong, the bunker was great.

It had a kitchen.

It was full of some pretty awesome toys.

There was a whole library full of books that allowed Sam to get his geek on whenever he pleased.

It was a secure, safe place for me and my little brother to live, and maybe someday, we would call it home.

The one and only issue I had with the bunker, was that Sammy and I had separate rooms.

I was psyched to get my own room, and glad that my brother could finally acquire some of the privacy he had always complained about not having.

It was all great. Except when your kid brother just got back from a trip to hell and was being plagued with nightmares.

I left my door open, and I knew that Sam did the same, but it just wasn't enough. I couldn't hear his breathing patterns from so far away, I couldn't tell if he was tossing, turning, or sweating the way he always did when in distress. I knew that once the nightmare got bad I would be able to hear him, the startled cry would travel down the hall, but by then the kid would already be in a full on panic.

When it came to my little brother's nightmares, I preferred to nip them in the bud, which was not possible when I couldn't hear a damn thing that was going on.

So instead I just laid in my bed and tried to pretend that I had some chance at falling asleep.

I reminded myself that when we arrived at the bunker just a short while ago, Sam had insisted he was fine, that he was just going to head to bed, and that I should do the same.

Although I tried, I couldn't deny how exhausted I was feeling, Sam's trip to hell, followed by his nightmares - plus all the driving I had been doing lately - had worn me out. So when I watched my brother wander into his room and heard the springs creak as he laid down on the bed, I had no objection in doing the same.

Unfortunately, sleep didn't come nearly as easily as I thought it would. It was difficult to rest when I couldn't stop worrying about Sam and what nightmares he may or may not have been having.

I was restlessly rolling around on the mattress until I heard noise out in the hall. Due to my extremely alert state, I could easily track Sam by listening to the sounds he was making. I heard his bed squeak as he raised off of it, the creak of his door as he opened it all the way, and the shuffle of his sock-clad feet as he moved down the hall. The noise of a chair dragging across the floor told me that the kid ended up in the library.

So it wasn't a simple trip to the bathroom, I concluded.

I was debating about whether or not to join my little brother, when the sound of coughing travelled down the hall and immediately made my decision for me.

I climbed out of bed, cringing at the harsh, wet, hacking I heard coming from the young man.

Bypassing the library, I headed straight to the kitchen, filling a glass full of water before making my way to Sam, who was still hunched over coughing into a napkin.

"Here." I said, placing the cup in front of him and dropping into the chair across the table as I waited for the kid to finish.

Sam hacked for longer than I was okay with. I was about to get out of my chair and start pounding on his back when it finally tapered off. A shaky hand reached out, thin fingers wrapping around the glass as my brother brought it to his mouth and took a long gulp.

"Better?" I asked, after he had returned the cup to the table.

"Yeah." He replied, his rasp doing nothing to ease my concern.

"You're getting worst." I observed aloud.

Sam said nothing, but I knew that was just because he couldn't find a way to deny it.

"Why aren't you in bed?" I questioned casually, trying not to sound too authoritative, because I knew how Sammy hated that.

"Couldn't sleep." He replied with a shrug. "Did my coughing wake you up?" He enquired, glancing between me and the book opened up before him on the table.

"Oh please, I was up the second I heard you get out of bed."

Sam huffed and rolled his eyes, clearly not believing me, but that was okay. I was hardly going to explain that I had been laying awake worrying about him. There was no way I would ever willingly confess to such mother-like behaviour.

Sam switched his attention down to whatever it was he was reading, probably something related to figuring out the next trial. My little brother could have such a one-track mind and I knew that until the trials were complete, he would spend all of his time obsessing over them.

My gaze remained trained on the kid as he read. The shadows under his eyes were growing darker, and the pallor of his skin was becoming paler. I knew part of that had to do with the severe lack of sleep, but I also knew that it was not that simple. The trials were damaging my kid brother.

And it was all my fucking fault.

"Can I help you?" Sam asked, no doubt feeling uncomfortable under my analyzing stare.

"Yeah, either eat something, or get some sleep." I suggested, adding more after a moment's thought. "Or better yet, eat something and then go to sleep."

Sam sighed loudly in exasperation, as though I had just instructed him to clean every weapon in our arsenal.

"I'm not hungry and I-

"Don't you dare say that you aren't tired, because we both know that's bullshit." I interrupted.

"I was going to say that I can't sleep." Sam finished, looking at me with raised eyebrows, a moderately amused expression on his face.

"Nightmares?" I questioned softly.

Sam looked away, biting his bottom lip as he nodded his head distractedly.

I had figured as much.

I searched for something to say, something that would make this all easier for the kid.

"You want to talk about it?"

That wasn't it.

My simple inquiry had my brother instantly tensing up and adamantly shaking his head.

"I can handle it, Sam" I declared, staring right in to the hazel eyes currently evading my green ones.

He made no comment, he just shook his head a few more times in objection

"Dude, come on." I sighed, because the kid needed to sleep, and before he could do that he needed to talk. At that point I didn't care if we had the mother-of-all chick flick moments, just as long as Sam could get some peaceful rest.

"I can't." Sam said, not bothering to remove his gaze from the table top.

"You can, and you are going to have to, or else the dreams are just going to keep coming, kiddo." I informed him sympathetically.

The young man slumped across from me, remained silent.

"You don't have to tell me everything. Just something, anything." I pleaded, because I knew Sam needed to let it out, although - in all honesty - I was dreading to hear more stories from the cage. Any snippet of information I had gathered, and what Sammy had told me after he freaked out in the Impala just a few hours back...it was bad, really fucking bad. But my brother needed me to be strong, and he needed to talk about the horrors he had experienced, so I would listen without judgement, the same way he did for me after my return from hell all those years ago.

"You don't know what you're asking Dean." Sam ground out, glancing up at me, a warning on his face.

"Oh please Sam, I'm not some fragile little child. I've been to hell-

"I know." He interrupted, his voice rising. "And I'm not saying that what you went through wasn't bad Dean, because it was, it was awful...but the cage...it was different...it was..."

"Worse." I clarified as my brother faded off, because I already knew that much.

Sam seemed hesitant to agree, and if I knew my brother - which I damn well did - it was because he didn't want to minimize what I went through, he didn't want to dismiss my suffering.

The stupid kid, worried about me and my feelings, even when his own were in complete turmoil.

"You can say it Sam, you're not wrong."

The young man was chewing on his bottom lip, as he shrugged noncommittally.

"But just because you had it worse, doesn't mean you can't tell me about it." I stated, my tone calm as I watched my little brother's lips twitch into a fraction of a smile at the sound of my version of his name.

There was a long period of silence. I was on the verge of dropping the subject until another night; but then Sam spoke up, quietly, so much so I almost didn't hear him, but he spoke nonetheless.

"He never said it right."

"Said what?" I encouraged after another few seconds had passed.

"My name, the way you always say it. He would use it to taunt me, or mock me, I don't really know, sometimes I think he wanted to trick me into thinking it was you...because he'd use your voice."

My fists clenched at the new information, how dare that bastard use not only my nickname for the kid, but my voice to torture him. I wished more than anything I could take a trip down to the cage just so I could rip Lucifer up into a million fucking pieces.

I forced myself to shove down my rage, because my brother didn't need my anger, he needed me to listen.

"But it still wouldn't sound right. I could always tell. You just...you always say it different." Sam finished in a whisper, hazel eyes timidly peeking over at me.

"I'm the one and only Dean Winchester kiddo, no one else can duplicate this much awesomeness." I declared, sending my little brother a cocky wink.

"Stone number one, right?" Sam replied with half a smile.

"Damn straight, little brother." I stated confidently.

I sat, waiting to see if the young man would continue to speak, but it would seem that Sam had done all the sharing he planned to for now. I didn't push it, because even though the kid hadn't given me much, he gave me something. It was a step in the right direction.

My brother released a long drawn out yawn and scrubbed at his drooping eyes; he looked all of five years old whenever he did that and it always made the protective streak in me surge.

I stood abruptly and headed in the direction of the kitchen.

"Where you going?" Sam asked as I moved.

"To make you something to eat."

"Dean, I don't-

"I said sleep or eat, Sam. You going to bed?"

My brother indicated the negative with a shake of his head.

"Then food it is." I announced, exiting the library.

"Keep it simple!" I heard Sam holler from behind me.

I rolled my eyes, because it wasn't like I didn't know the kid, or the way he got when he was sick.

My scan of the kitchen gave me the conclusion that we were running low and I would need to make a food run soon. I decided on cereal, that gross kind Sam ate that was all seedy, grainy, flaky, and shitty. I poured what was left of the box into a small bowl, giving the milk a testing sniff before adding it in as well. I grabbed a spoon and made a mental note to pick up some juice on my grocery run, knowing Sam always wanted apple juice when he was a sick. I smiled fondly at the memory of of a young boy with unruly curly hair smiling up at me like I was some sort of hero for bringing him home a box of apple juice that I had lifted off a kid at school.

I snickered to my self, recalling how easy it had been to impress the little squirt. Bring him home a juice-box when he was sick and the kid looked at me like I had saved the world. Apparently some things never changed, just awhile ago Sam had labelled me a genius. Why the hell my little brother always believed in me I did not understand, but I would be lying if I said it didn't mean everything to me.

Now it was my turn to return the favour.

I had to stop seeing Sammy as my baby brother who always needed to be rescued and protected. He was a man now and the best damn person I knew. I had to start believing in him the same way he did in me. Sam needed to know I had faith in him if he was going to be able to finish the trials. My brother was going to save the world, and he needed me to back him up. So that was what I was going to do.

I nodded my head in agreement with myself as I made my way out of the kitchen.

"Alright Sam, I poured you a nice bowl of mulch. Seriously dude, I can't believe you eat this shit."

I waited for the defencive reply advertising the health benefits of this grainy cereal, but it never came. I entered the room, expecting to at least be given a bitch-face face for my derogatory comment, but I didn't get that either. Sam was too busy sleeping. His face was resting on top of the book he had been reading as he breathed deeply, the way he always did when he slept.

"I guess I should have seen this coming." I muttered to myself as I quietly placed the cereal on the table.

I sat across from the sleeping form, and glanced down at the material he had been looking over. I shook my head at the uselessness of it all. We needed Kevin to figure out what the next trial was, and I had no idea where the hell the kid had run off to.

I began sifting through the research that was not currently trapped underneath my little brother's hairy noggin.

I must have fallen asleep at one point, because I woke up with a colossal crick in my neck and a piece of paper stuck to my forehead.

I brought my face up off the table and rubbed my eyes clear, looking over at the young man across from me.

Sam was in the very same position I had last seen him in, except now he was shivering.

The sound of my brother's rapid breathing and the twitching about of his body told me exactly what had awoken me.

"Sammy." I instantly called out, reaching over the table top and resting a hand on his head.

He was warm, fever-warm, his hair damp with sweat as I combed it to the side.

"Sam wake up!" I called out as his shaking increased and he began to whimper.

I moved from my seat and went around the table, lifting my brother's face off of the surface and holding it between my hands.

"Come on man, front and centre." I commanded as I gently tapped his cheeks.

Still nothing.

"Sammy!" I hollered loudly.

My brother's eyes flew open, panic reigning over his expression as he pulled back and launched out of his chair.

"It's alright little brother, it's alright." I soothed, my hands up in surrender.

This wasn't like the other times though, Sam recognized me instantly, his wild eyes searching until I spoke and then finding me instantly.

"Dean." He gasped out between heaving breaths.

"Yeah buddy, it's just me. I'm right here."

Sam took an unsteady step toward me, his body shaking so hard I was afraid he would lose his balance.

I carefully approached the frightened young man, gently grasping him above the elbow to keep him steady. I was slow in my movements, not wanting to do anything to put my brother at any sort of further unease.

Sam's gaze kept searching his surroundings, but they always returned to meet mine, as though he was using me as his anchor, his stone number one.

"Deep slow breaths." I coached as he proceeded to pant in distress.

He nodded in response, making a conscious effort to gain control of his oxygen flow as his body continued to vibrate.

"Dean, I-I need-ed..." Sam faded off mid-stutter as he sucked in oxygen slow and deep.

"What is it? What do you need?" I asked, grabbing a hold of his other elbow as his knees buckled for a second, almost sending him to the ground.

"Wa-warm, need t-to get warm." My brother stated through chattering teeth as a violent shiver ran through his lanky body.

"Okay. We can do that buddy, don't worry. How about you just sit here and I'll go grab a blanket." I suggested, reaching out with my foot, linking it around the leg of the chair, and dragging it closer. I angled my brother in front of it and gently pushed him down into the seat.

Sam all but collapsed back into his chair, eyes trained on me as he sat shaking.

"Be right back." I promised, releasing my hold of Sam's elbows and turning to leave. Long fingers shot out and wrapped tightly, almost painfully, around my wrist.

I turned back around and looked over my kid brother.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

Two wide hazel eyes stared up at me, they were glazed in fear as Sam shook his head from side to side.

"D-don't le-leave." He whispered, clenching his jaw to try and stop the unintentional constant movement of his mouth.

"I'm just going to grab you a blanket, maybe make you some tea. I shouldn't be more than a few minutes." I explained patiently, trying to pull away, eager to get him warm.

But Sam wouldn't release my arm, his grip becoming impossibly tighter when I attempted to tug my wrist from his hold.

"I-I'll come." He declared with an affirming nod of his head as he pulled himself up.

"Sam, just sit I'll-

"Please, P-please Dean." Sam pleaded, his face turned to the floor, his embarrassment obvious as he avoided my gaze.

I knew that it must have been bad for my brother to be so blatantly clingy, for him to ignore the humiliation he was feeling and attach himself to me the way he used to when he was a kid.

"Sure buddy, come on." I complied, not failing to notice Sam's refusal to release my arm as we made our way down the hall.

My room was closest so I directed us there, my steadying hold on the unstable man at my side becoming tighter as he continued to shake from cold.

I pulled the blanket from my bed and immediately wrapped it around the taller man.

"Here you go kiddo." I said, bringing the corners together in front for him. Bony fingers held the blanket as Sam proceeded to shiver, his other hand still locked around my wrist.

I rested the back of my hand on his forehead, confused when I felt room temperature warmth.

He wasn't quite feverish and he wasn't chilled, so the shivering must have been coming from whatever the hell happened in that damn dream.

"Better?" I questioned.

Sam shrugged as he huddled deeper into the comforter.

That would be a no.

"What if I made you some of that girlie tea you like? Would that help?" I inquired, genuinely wondering if it would aid him in anyway.

Sam looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding his head just a fraction.

"Alright, let's go then."

My brother shuffled clumsily down the hall, his body lacking control as it proceeded to shake. His grip on my arm continued to squeeze tighter until I finally wriggled my hand free.

"Sorry dude, I think you're starting to cut off my circulation." I stated, regretting the joking sound of my tone when Sam's face coloured in shame as he let his arm drop to his side, looking like a child who had just been chastised, as he ducked into the blanket.

"It's alright Sam." I said with half a smile.

My brother nodded, but I noticed that his shivering was becoming more aggressive and his breathing was beginning to pick up.

"What's going on man? Talk to me." I demanded, stopping and turning to fully face the young man, who looked so young with his terrified expression.

"I uuh...I j-just...I n-need..." My brother faded off, his eyes darting around as his teeth chattered and he continuously clenched and unclenched his fist.

He needed me to ground him.

Sam may not have been hallucinating any more, but after his trip to hell and all the nightmares, there was no doubt the kid was struggling with fear and maintaining a firm sense of reality.

"Here, hold this." I instructed, placing my little brother's hand on the back of my shirt. Sam nodded gratefully and immediately latched onto the my clothing. I had an instant recollection of decades ago when a small, shaggy headed little boy would cling to the bottom of my shirt whenever he was scared or nervous. I smiled fondly at the memories.

"Good?"

"Yeah." Sam rasped as he followed my lead to the kitchen.

I wasn't going to lie, it felt good to be needed. Not that I wished this kind of torment on my little brother, ever, but it felt nice to have him clinging to me. Sam was strong and independent, he had been that way most of his life. Once he became a teenager, even when he needed me, he would pretend that he didn't. He became embarrassed when he required help or comfort, but that humiliation was always overruled whenever he was sick, hurt, or scared. And I was okay with that. Because I always knew how to take care of Sammy, and it was a hell of a lot easier to do my job when he wasn't pretending that he was fine.

"Sit." I ordered softly, upon our entrance into the kitchen.

It took him a moment, but my brother reluctantly released his hold of my shirt and sat at the table.

I immediately went over and put the water on, coming to take a seat beside Sam as we waited for it to boil.

He was examining the table top as he pulled the comforter tighter around his long body and continued to shiver.

"It was cold."

I stayed quiet, watching my little brother, knowing by his haunted tone of voice that I was about to receive another glimpse into life inside the cage.

"Always cold. Really cold, like freezing." Sam explained, his body vibrating in response to the thoughts in his head.

"But it wasn't the normal sort of cold, where your toes go numb and your skin is chilled. It was different."

Sam paused, chewing on his bottom lip, clenching his jaw to gain control of his chattering teeth.

"It wasn't just cold skin...it went deeper. It went inside. It was like everything inside of me turned into ice. And I could never get warm. Kinda like now." My brother whispered as his thin frame was wracked with another set of aggressive shivers.

"We'll get you warmed up soon, Sam." I promised.

My brother nodded, but I could tell by his distracted expression that he was still living the memories running through his mind.

I cursed myself and the fucking trials for putting Sam through all of this.

I hated that he was having to deal with memories of the cage all over again.

The sound of boiling water pulled me from my frustrated thoughts. I fixed my brother tea, it was honey lemon and to be honest it smelt pretty good. Not that I would ever drink that shit, but I wasn't totally uncomprehending as to the reasons why Sam bothered with it. I added as splash of milk and two drops of honey to the steaming beverage, before placing it down in front of my brother.

Sam startled, before wrapping his hands around the mug and breathing it in.

"You're supposed to drink it, Sam." I teased.

My brother smirked in response and took a small sip.

"It was always there...the cold." The young man continued after a few more swallows, his teeth no longer chattering and his shivers now much less intense.

"Even... even when I was left alone - when he got bored with me - even then, there was still the cold."

Sam paused to take another sip of the hot drink he had been staring into since he started speaking.

"I used to curl up and try to get warm...I gave that up after awhile. It never worked."

The young man chewed on his bottom, mauling something over in his mind before taking a breath and continuing.

"The uuhh...the pain...it was bad, but the cold...it made it worse somehow. You know?"

Two watery puppy-dog eyes stared over at me and I nodded in response. I didn't really know what he meant, Sam and I had very different experiences in hell, and his was a hundred times worse. But he needed me to understand, so that was what I would do.

"I got used to the pain...well...I got used to some of the pain, but I never got used to the cold. And...it sounds stupid, but it terrified me. I was afraid that I would never be warm again...that I would always feel frozen inside."

I didn't know what to say. There wasn't a whole lot to be said. So I sat there, silently supportive of my little brother as he allowed me small glances into a time he had tried so hard to forget.

"Even when - when there was fire. When he would burn me. When my whole body was literally on fire and my skin was blistering and burning off. I was still cold...on the inside." Sam choked out, swiping at his eyes as he cleared his throat and took another swallow of tea.

The graphic images that plagued my mind had me closing my eyes to compose myself. I needed to be calm for Sam. I didn't need him seeing the pain his memories were causing me.

"Now whenever I get cold, it's like I'm right back there. I'm back there freezing in that cage." He faded off and gave his head a shake, as though he could physically force the thoughts of his past from his mind.

I rested my hand on his arm for a moment, squeezing gently in support.

Sam sniffed and blinked away his tears, composing himself as he focused on his tea.

"Getting any better?" I questioned once the mug was nearly empty. The shivering had stopped, which was a good sign.

"Much." Sam responded simply.

"Good."

I was wasn't able to prevent a yawn from escaping my mouth.

"You should go to bed."

I rolled my eyes at the predictable response.

"You first." I quipped.

Sam sighed in exasperation, giving me that irritated expression he always did when he felt I was being unreasonable.

"You want to watch some TV?"

"I thought you wanted me to go to bed?" My brother questioned skeptically.

"Are you going to?"

He shook his head adamantly, not yet ready to expose himself to the recollections of his hell.

"I didn't think so. So how about we watch one of those lame documentaries you like so much."

Sam quirked a smile and nodded in agreement with the idea.

He kept the blanket wrapped around himself as he got to his feet, but he was much steadier now that shivering wasn't an issue.

"You wanna..." I faded off, but offered my arm, not sure if Sam was ready to go it alone just yet.

"I'm okay." The young man responded, dimples appearing on his face as he shyly glanced at me in appreciation.

I nodded, satisfied my brother was feeling more grounded and secure.

I lead us to Sam's room, hoping that if I got him laying on his bed watching television, maybe he would get some rest.

He was calm, but quiet; reflective and tired, but too stubborn and scared to go to sleep willingly. Sam was still huddled in the blanket off my bed, even though he was practically sweating, but I didn't bother him about it. Because I understood the power that the mind could have over the body.

I was around to ensure that Sam's memories didn't gain too much control, that they didn't trap him in the past.

I would protect my brother from everything.

Including his own mind.

Including these trials.

And even his nightmares.

Because protecting Sam was my job and it was the only thing that mattered.


	4. Chapter 4

Note: Final chapter babes! Thank you so much everyone who stuck with this fic! So sorry that it took me so long to finish, it was a struggle for me to end.

* * *

I must have fallen asleep at some point during the third Die Hard movie.

Because a loud guttural gasp shocked me back into reality.

"Sam?" I immediately called out, looking around the dark room, lit only by the television.

He wasn't curled in the bed next to me like he had been during the first two films.

The blanket that had been wrapped around him was in a ball on the floor, and the sight of it had me on my feet in a heartbeat.

"Sammy?" I called out, squinting as I tried to force my eyes to adjust to the lack of lighting.

I knew his gasp is what had woken me, so I had no idea where he had gone so quickly that I couldn't find him now.

I stumbled, clumsily feeling my way around my brother's bed, cursing when I stubbed my toe on a box.

I knew at some point I would have to discuss with Sam his apparent inability to move in to the damn bunker, but I would have to find the kid first.

"Freaking, bloody, sonuvabitch." I seethed, slapping the wall in search for the switch.

All my grumbling and fumbling finally paid off as the room flooded with light.

"Aah shit." I hooded my eyes from the blinding brightness and tripped over another box, that sent me tumbling forward. I reached out to stop myself, feeling something soft break my fall.

Sam's startled cry sounded through the small room, as I struggled to gain my feet and not land completely on top of him.

I pushed back, balancing myself in a squatted position.

My eyes had finally adjusted enough for me to clearly see the trembling form before me.

Sam was wedged into the corner of the room, his knees pulled up to his chest, with his arms crossed over top of them. His face was hidden in his arms, making only his tangled brown hair visible.

"Sam? Dude, you alright? Did I hurt you?" I asked, my hands ghosting over my little brother, searching for any sign of injury.

I barely skimmed his arm, and Sam jerked back, slamming himself against the wall in an effort to get away from me.

My eyes grew wide in alarm, as I pulled my hands away.

Even in his attempt to back up, my brother had kept his face hidden. That frustrated me, because I knew every clue about what exactly was going on, would be hidden in his expression.

"Sam? Buddy? Can you tell me what's going on?" I questioned, my tone soft, the way it had been many times in the past couple days.

But it did nothing to ease my brother's fear, as he only tensed more at my simple inquiry.

"C'mon Sammy. Level with me here, man." I pleaded quietly.

The long limbs did not relax in the least, but after a moment I heard the sound of a rough voice.

"Don't say that."

Even in the gruff tone, the words were sharp and had a definite bite to them.

"Say what?" I inquired neutrally.

"Don't fuck with me. You know what."

My eyebrows raised at the harsh statement. Sam had never spoken to me with that kind of hate in his tone before.

"No, I really don't. You care to enlighten me, little brother?" It was a tad more difficult to keep myself sounding light this time, but I managed.

"You're not him!" The statement was nearly growled and it was accompanied by a loathing glare, making Sam come across as downright lethal.

I rocked back on my heels, startled by the irate response coming from the big-hearted, puppy-dog eyed kid I had raised.

However, the shock quickly gave way to a wave of understanding, as Sam's vocabulary finally registered in my mind.

"Sammy-

"Don't!"

I couldn't help but flinch at the volume that was added to the hate flowing out of the man before me.

"Sorry, sorry. _Sam_. Dude, I know you are confused right now, but I'm thinking you had a nightmare. And from the looks of the hair sticking to your forehead, you've probably got a fever to." I kept my hands out in surrender and my voice level, as I tried desperately to talk some sense into my little brother.

But he wasn't having it.

"Shut the hell up." He barked, his gaze constantly drifting over my shoulder, as if he didn't want to look directly at me for some reason.

"Buddy. Please. Please listen to me. You've been having a lot of nightmares lately, about the cage. But you're not there anymore Sammy- Sam, sorry. You're not there any more, Sam. You got out. I swear." I was having serious deja vu of a similar conversation from about a year ago, after my brother's wall crumbled. Thankfully, this time, he didn't have a firearm.

My brother was silent, staring past me at the wall, his expression impassive.

"Sam?" I prodded softly.

It was another minute or two before he reacted.

Sam's body seemed to deflate, going lax as he leaned back against the wall.

I was thrilled - for half a second - until those hazel eyes glanced up at me.

I didn't see any recognition or any relief, just bone-deep exhaustion and despair.

"Aren't you tired of this game?" He asked, his gaze dropping down to his knees.

I didn't think I would miss the anger, but the second I heard him sounding so beaten down, so broken...well I would have given anything to light the hate-fire back in his eyes.

"What game, Sam?" I was practically whispering now.

My brother shook his head, turning away, but that didn't stop me from seeing his eyes fill with tears, or hearing his voice crack in anguish the next time he spoke.

"Can you please be someone else today?" He pleaded.

I was speechless, now knowing what to say to convince the kid, to bring him back to me.

"Please? You can be Dad, or ... Mom or... Jess."

My heart shattered at the tears that began to stream down Sam's face, as he looked at me, begging me.

I couldn't breathe for a moment, my hands shaking with hate for the bastard that did this to my little brother, that made the strongest person I knew, cry and plead for an end to the torment.

"Please just not him. Not Dean." Sam sobbed, his shoulders shaking as he fell apart right before my eyes.

He didn't know it was me.

He didn't know I was there.

He thought he was still in hell.

And I needed to get him out of there right fucking now.

"Alright you know what. I don't know what the fuck fake-me did to you. But I can guarantee you he didn't do this." I mumbled, moving to sit right next to my little brother, sliding my arm behind his suddenly rigid shoulders, and pulling him into me.

Sam didn't put up a fight, he wasn't resistant, but he remained tense; each of his muscles coiled as I tugged him into my chest.

"Please don't. Please, _please_ don't." The mantra came out in desperate croaks, and it nearly killed me.

Tears escaped my eyes as I held my little brother, willing him to return to the present, to escape the torture and agony of hell.

"I don't know what that bastard did to you, Sammy. But I swear you are out now. You got out of that cage, and you are with me now. You are never going back there, ever. I won't let you." I swore vehemently, carding my hand through Sam's sweat soaked hair as I rubbed my hand up and down his back.

"Don't be Dean. Please, don't be Dean. I can't...just _please._"

Each desperate desperate wail was like a slice through my soul.

"I'm going to kill that sonuvabitch, Sammy. I'm going to find my way into the cage and I'm going to tear him to fucking pieces." I raged, my words violent, but hands gentle as I continued to sooth my little brother every way I knew how.

I felt Sam's body beginning to relax, and I feared the reason for it. I was hoping he was returning to reality, but I was nervous that he was just breaking, giving into the suffering.

I should have known better.

Sam didn't give in.

He shattered, and he hurt, and he fell apart sometimes, but he never gave in.

I felt him shifting, his face mashed into my collarbone as his one hand unclenched and splayed against my chest. Tentative fingers began travelling around, searching for something.

It hit me like a truck what it was Sam was trying to find, what it was he was looking to discover.

The amulet.

The gift I had been given from my kid brother.

The gift I had worn throughout my entire life.

The gift I had dropped thoughtlessly into the trash.

Because I was a fucking asshole.

"It's not there." I choked out; guilt, regret, and shame washing over me.

Sam's fingers froze, right where the golden charm should have been resting.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. It's not there." It was my turn to try and speak through and overwhelming amount of emotion.

The one thing that might have brought my little brother back to me.

The one thing that might have confirmed my identity.

And I threw it away.

"I'm so sorry." I rasped, tightening my hold on the young man, hoping to convey my apology through more than words.

Sam squirmed, his one hand - the one that wasn't on my chest - wiggling from my grip and sliding into his pocket. He kept it in there; his hand bunched up as though he were toying or holding onto something.

There was more silence, I held on to Sam like I was drowning and he was my life-line. I kept expecting him to pull away, the absence of the amulet confirming his fear that I wasn't who I claimed to be, but instead the kid melted against me.

"Dean?" He asked timidly.

My breath caught in my throat, that voice - though far more uncertain than usual - sounded more like my Sam than anything I had heard since waking.

"The one and only."

Sam flinched at the phrase and I immediately backtracked, realizing that apparently Lucifer had done too good a job at masquerading as me.

"Yeah Sammy, it's me." I promised, gently squeezing the back of his neck.

My brother lifted his head, his eyes finally locking onto mine. Gone was the hate and despair, in it's place was question, fear, and a light glimmer of hope.

That glimmer was all I needed.

"It's me. I swear to you it's me. The real me. You had a nightmare, kiddo, and I think your fever let it go to your head." I explained.

I watched as the confusion faded from his face, a clarity quickly taking its place.

Sam's eyes went wide as he pulled away from me. I reluctantly released him, keeping one hand on his arm, grounding him as he sat up.

My little brother looked around the room, scanning it, as though he was seeing it for the first time.

"Shit, Dean. I thought I was..." He faded off, not wanting to specify.

"I know, buddy." I placated.

"I'm sorry." He apologized, Looking back at me in pure sympathy.

Clearly I wasn't doing very well at hiding how freaked I had been.

"It's alright, Sam. It's not your fault." I assured him.

Sam shook his head in disagreement, but made no effort to continue the conversations, as he sagged back against the wall. He still had one hand in the pocket of his jeans when he drifted to the right, leaning a little against my shoulder, the contact seeming to relax him.

Sam was exhausted, and not just because he had managed to acquire only a few hours of sleep in the past couple nights. It was that, plus the nightmares, plus the weariness that just seemed to be embedded in the kid since he had started the trials.

Sometimes though, there were pros to that level of exhaustion. It often made Sam a little less guarded, therefor more likely to answer questions he would usually dodge away from.

"Do you remember what you dreamt about? Before you woke up and-

"Spazzed out."

"Forgot where you were." I corrected, always hating how hard Sam could be on himself.

"Hell." The younger man replied simply.

"No shit, care to be a little more specific?"

Apparently he didn't, because Sam remained stubbornly silent as he nervously picked at his pants.

"Was it something you haven't told me about yet? Something else that happened it that cage?" I prompted softly.

"It wasn't in the cage." He mumbled, not bothering to look up from the hole he was creating in the knee of his clothing.

"What?" I questioned, confused.

Sam took a deep breath, releasing it in a long sigh as his fingers stopped pulling threads from his pants and curled into a fist.

"It wasn't my hell I was dreaming about."

"What are you talking about?"

Sam paused, his knuckles rubbing lazily up and down his thigh.

"It was yours. My nightmare was about your hell, Dean, not mine." The gravelly admission was accompanied by two soulful puppy dog eyes; that were staring directly into mine. The degree of sympathy oozing out of them made me uncomfortable enough to turn away.

"Why my hell?" I questioned, staring aimlessly across the room, wishing my brother had hung at least one damn thing on the wall for me to look at.

"When I went back, for the second trial. It was your hell I went to, not mine." Sam explained.

I nodded.

There were a few more breaths of silence before my brother's raspy voice could be heard.

"I hated the thought of you being there. And I hated my memories of seeing you there." The last sentence was nearly a whisper, but it set alarms off in my brain.

My eyes snapped back to Sam.

"What do you mean _seeing me there_? When did you see me in hell?"

The younger man blanched at my inquiries, clearly he had revealed more than he had intended to.

"I...It's nothing, Dean. Just forget it." The comment was glazed with a flippant tone, but I could hear the underlying plea. I often caved to my little brother's pleas, but not this time, this time I needed answers.

"Come on, Sam. I thought we were through with all this secretive bullshit. You need to be straight with me. When did you see me in hell?"

My brother averted his gaze and chewed viciously on his bottom lip.

I regretted having to push the kid for answers, especially when he was so sick and just so damn vulnerable. But this wasn't just Sam hiding his hell, this was him hiding more than that, hiding something having to do with me.

If my brother had seen any of the awful things I had done down there. If he had seen the way I had ripped apart other souls; I didn't imagine I would ever be able to look him in the eye again. Sure, I had given Sam a vague description of my time in hell, and he hadn't ever held any of it against me. But if my little brother, the man I practically raised, had seen - with his own two eyes - the horrific things I had done, there would be no running from that shame.

"Was it Ruby? Did she show you? Or was it some sort of trick she taught you, letting you see-

"God, no. Dean, it was nothing like that. I would have told you if it was." Sam declared.

I believed him, the earnest, shocked expression, being more than enough to convince me.

"Than what?" I questioned, my patience wavering, but my voice holding steady and calm.

"Lucifer showed me. While I was in the cage. I don't even know if it was real...it probably wasn't...nothing there really was I guess, but it all seemed way too real." Sam's voice was raspy and haunted, the way it always was when he spoke of the cage and the traumatic events that had occurred within it.

"What would he show you?" I inquired quietly.

Sam's jaw clenched and he sucked in a large gulp of air before replying.

"He told me that you made a deal to get me out. That one of the demons had tricked you, and that you sold your soul for me...again."

The shaggy head shook from side to side.

"It was stupid, and I refused to buy it...so he showed me." Sam's speech faded with every word, I was forced to lean in closer just to be able to hear the next sentence.

"The first time you were just sitting in the cell. I tried to speak to you but he wouldn't let me. He said as long as I didn't scream, he would be sure that you remained there, untouched. And then, the second after I agreed...he was...he..."

Sam inhaled a shaky breath, finally pulling his hand from his pocket and staring at his fingers as he fiddled with them.

"He started tearing my fingernails off one by one. Once that didn't work, he began snapping the bones in my fingers. Then he moved onto my toes. Next came my arms, and my legs. Then my ribs...and my spine." Sam choked out, his hands shaking as his body tensed.

I physically flinched at the confession, convulsively swallowing down the bile that was travelling up my esophagus. The visual images assaulting my mind made me sick, and what was worse, was that I knew they weren't nearly as bad as what had actually happened.

"I tried so damn hard not to scream. I swear to you, Dean, I tried so hard...but it just - fuck- it hurt _so_ much. And it was still pretty early on, I hadn't gotten used to the pain yet...but I promise you, I tried so hard." He insisted, wide eyes staring over at me, begging me to believe him. To believe that he tried.

"I know you did, Sammy." I whispered, wanting to say so much more, but just needing my little brother to know that I believed him.

"But I screamed. I couldn't help it. Because you...you can't pass out in hell. The pain never leads to darkness, it just leads to more pain."

I nodded, remembering that fact all too clearly.

"And every time I screamed, he would smile and tell me they were hurting you. He would _show_ me. He'd made me watch you being...being beaten and ripped apart."

Sam's voice broke, his body shaking as he struggled to hold back the hiccupping sobs, some of which managed to escape.

I felt my heart clench, my chest feeling tight as I fought to contain my own sorrow, and swallow down the huge lump in my throat.

"And I knew it was my fault. I tried so hard, but I always screamed. And they hurt you. And I'm so sorry Dean." Sam finished with a hushed, broken tone. My brother's head dropped, chin touching his chest, his hands trembling as he sniffed and rubbed at his eyes.

I felt like I couldn't breathe. The mere thought of Sam suffering so much, and being so disappointed in himself, thinking it was his fault for not being able to do the impossible.

I swiped at my eyes and cleared my throat, before firmly gripping Sam's chin and forcing his head up to look at me.

"Don't you dare even think that." I nearly growled, forcing myself to stare directly into those tormented hazel eyes.

"It wasn't me-

"But I wasn't sure. And what if it-

"It _wasn't me_-

"But-

"But even if it had been. It would **not** have been your fault, Sam."

My brother was already shaking his head, as much as he could with me still holding onto his chin.

"If I had really been in hell. There is _nothing_ you could have possibly done that would have saved me."

Sam frowned, his eyes filling again.

I stared steadily, needing him to believe every word I was about to say.

"That asshole was messing with you, little brother. He had you trapped in that cage and he wanted to cause you pain anyway he could. He was screwing with your head, and even if you hadn't have screamed, he still would have forced you to watch me get hurt. Because he _knew_ that would hurt you in a way that the physical pain never could."

"But if it had been you, Dean. I would have-

"I know you, Sammy. I know that you did everything possible to protect me, because you're a stubborn little bitch." I added, my voice filled with nothing but fondness.

The young man's smirk was small, but it was still present.

"You didn't do anything wrong. Nothing. At all." I announced, loud and clear.

Sam may have gotten a full ride to Stanford years ago. He may have even been the smartest man I knew.

But the kid could sure be a dunce, and often needed the most basic facts spelled out for him.

"You got it?" I asked, my hand moving from Sam's chin to rest on the back of his neck, squeezing gently.

The younger man nodded, as I thumbed away the few tears that slid down his cheeks in the process.

I wasn't surprised when he leaned towards me, and I pulled him into my arms without a second of thought.

He pressed his face against my collarbone, his hair tickling my chin, as his shaky hands fought for purchase on my back.

I just held him tight, feeling his heart thud against my chest and pressing my face into his hair, not caring about the slight stench of perspiration; because it was all just a reminder of the fact that my little brother was alive.

A reminder that no matter what happened to him in that fucking cage, he was here now, and everything else would be okay.

I would make it okay.

And in order to do that, I needed to be positive that Sam wasn't carrying any other guilt for what happened in that cage. I also needed to know what other ways the devil had used me to cause my kid pain.

I already knew he had used my voice and my nickname for my little brother, and now I knew that he used me as a tool play on Sammy's guild.

I needed to know what else he did.

Because using me to hurt Sam was just so fucking unacceptable.

I gave my brother - and myself - a few more moments to gain control, before I spoke again.

"Sammy." I called out softly, feeling his shaking sobs begin to taper off.

"Yeah?" He answered, sounding so young, more so when he sniffled against my shirt.

I instinctively combed my fingers through his mess of hair.

"Were there any other times that bastard made you think I was there? Any other times he used me?"

I felt Sam tense at the questions, and my heart sank at the answer I knew that to be.

I pulled him back a little, feeling his fingers grip on harder to my shirt, as though he were afraid I would leave him.

Pfft. As if that would ever happen.

I allowed him to cling as I swiped the hair from his face, satisfied that the kid's fever seemed to be dropping.

I hated the damn trials.

I shook my head, forcing myself to focus. One thing at a time.

"When, Sam? When else to that dickbag use my face to mess with you?" I queried, sounding both stern and soft at the same time; a combination I had mastered many years ago when getting Sam to tell me what the school-yard bullies had done to him, or what him and Dad had been fighting about, or where else he had been hurt during our face-off with the monster of the week, and on a countless number of other occasions.

My brother's gaze, shifted around briefly before landing back on me.

"A lot. All the time. I can't count how many times." He admitted.

I gritted my teeth at that. I had imagined as much, but hated knowing it was true.

"He used Mom and Dad to. And Jess." He continued, shuttering with each treasured family member. Each one had been used to cause him agony in the cage, which likely tarnished my little brother's memories of all of them, memories he had held sacred in his mind.

Because it wasn't bad enough that Sam only had fucking memories of everyone he had ever loved.

Those memories of Mom, Dad, and Jess were all he had to hold on to, because each person had been ripped away from him.

And now they were stained.

And it was all the devil's fault.

One more reason to tear that bastard to pieces, as if I needed another damn reason.

"Don't be so angry, Dean. It hardly ever worked. Maybe just the first time...at least with them." Sam explained.

I raised my eyebrows at that, unsure as to what he was getting at.

"I figured he was screwing with me the first time he tried to use Mom and Jess, that didn't mean he never tried again, but I did my best to ignore him. I thought the second time he pretended to be Dad that something wasn't right, I couldn't peg it, but something; so I ignored the rest of his attempts. With you...well it was different with you." Sam stated, sounding more tired and reflective than emotional and haunted now.

"Why was it different?" I asked, afraid to know, but needing to nonetheless.

"Part of it was because I wanted to believe it was really you. He would always pretend to be you coming to save me...and I guess part of me just wanted so desperately to be saved, that I trusted you, regardless of reason." The young man elaborated.

"What was the other part?" I inquired, hating how long Sam had been in that cage before he was pulled out. Hating myself for how long I left him there; left him there hoping I would show up.

My bitter thought process was stalled by the small, sad smile that played on Sam's lips.

"The other part was just me always believing it was you. Even when he wouldn't play you right, even when I knew something was off...because I could always tell that something was off, but I just - I could never ignore you. It's just not the way I was raised."

I cursed the lump that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in my throat, and smirked softly at my brother.

"Damn straight." I said, trying to ignore the gravelly sound to my voice as I fondly ruffled Sam's hair.

The younger man huffed, his dimples showing as he made a lame attempt of ducking from my reach.

A thought struck me, and was falling from my mouth before I even finished considering it.

"How did you know it was me? Just awhile ago? How did you know you weren't still in hell?"

Sam's gaze grew distant, and his eyes fell to stare down at my chest.

"He always had you wearing the amulet in hell." He whispered, his long thin fingers grazing against my shirt where the charm should have been resting.

My eyes filled instantly at that, and I moved my face away, viciously clenching my jaw as I silently hated on my own stupid actions.

"I don't know if he just didn't know you didn't wear it anymore, or if he just knew it would hurt me more if I saw you with it on...maybe he thought I would be more inclined to believe you, just out of hope." Sam's musing seemed detached, but his stare and touch never moved from that one area on my chest.

Even in my self-loathing fury, I didn't fail to notice Sam's other hand releasing the back of my shirt and sliding swiftly back into his pocket.

I wondered if perhaps what he was so drawn to happened to be the amulet. A part of me had always hoped that Sam had picked it out of the trash, all those years ago. It was that same part of me that was currently hoping he had kept it all that time, and it laid now safely in his pocket.

False hope. That's what it was.

I couldn't ever expect Sam to bother keeping that ugly little charm over the years. I couldn't assume that it still offered him any degree of comfort, not after I had tossed it away so carelessly. I couldn't imagine that the kid would hold onto it for all this time, and I couldn't believe that he would ever return it to me.

I didn't deserve it.

Not after what I had done.

But I still had hope for all of that, regardless of how stupid it was.

"I'm sorry, Sammy."

My brother's gaze instantly jumped up to meet mine, his hand falling from my chest and gripping my arm instead, his other hand sliding out of his pocket to do the same.

"It's okay, Dean. Really."

It wasn't. Not by a long shot.

But Sam's open and honest gaze had me inclined to let it go...for now.

Besides, I felt as though there had been enough sharing and caring for one night.

My brother shivered, and I frowned at the cool feeling of his skin as I touched his forehead.

"Damn, kid. Cold to hot and back to cold again. Pick a freakin temperature." I muttered, clearing my throat of the lingering emotion as I stretched out and snagged the blanket bunched on the floor - the one from my bed- wrapping it around the thin trembling man.

"Thanks." Sam said, his voice conveying the fact that he was expressing his appreciation for more than just the blanket.

"That's what big brothers are for." I answered simply, meaning every word.

A genuine Sammy Winchester smile finally made an appearance, making the kid look nearly his own age as the haunted memories faded from his expression.

His eyes still held a shadow. I imagined they always would.

One of hell's many gifts.

"Can we get off the floor now? Or were you planning on spending the night down here?" I questioned, trying for flippancy.

Sam accepted it with a smirk, more than willing to move past the memories and emotion.

"Good. Let's get your gangly ass to bed."

My brother snickered as I helped pull him up off the floor.

I shoved an unpacked duffel bag out of the way with my foot as I held Sammy steady on the way to his bed.

"And after you get some solid rest, we are having a serious talk about your refusal to unpack all this shit." I mumbled.

Sam actually rolled his eyes at that one, the sight of which had never made me more content.

It was good to have the kid back. He wasn't unscathed, he was sick, and god knew he was still hurting in a countless number of ways, but he was still Sam.

He was still my little brother.

And nothing was going to change that, not the trials, not hell, and not the devil himself.

Because Sam was good, regardless of the demon blood and all the shit he had been through, he was good straight through, down to his very core.

And even though just about everything had tried, nothing had tainted Sam.

He was still good, selfless, and kind.

He was - with the addition of several feet - still the young boy I had raised.

He was untouchable.

And I would do _everything_ possible to keep him that way.

I pulled the second blanket up over Sam, and went to move around him, but the grip on my wrist stopped my movement.

I looked down at my little brother, inwardly wincing at the dark circles I could see under his eyes and the flush of his cheeks.

"What is it, buddy?" I questioned, smoothing his bangs to the side and leaving my palm to rest on his forehead.

"Stay?" He asked. Sleep clearly pulling at him as his eyes drooped, being horizontal obviously reminding him just how exhausted he was.

"Where else would I be?" I asked.

Sam wasn't of the mindset for rhetorical questions, and proceeded to stare curiously up at me.

I chuckled softly.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sammy." I promised, moving my hand from his forehead to his chest and patting it reassuringly.

My little brother managed a partial grin, his thin fingers squeezing around my wrist before releasing.

His lazy gaze followed me as I made my way around the bed and stretched out onto the other side.

The second I was laying comfortably, the familiar grip returned, and I found my wrist being tugged against Sam's chest.

He paid no mind to my exasperated huff and simply wiggled a little closer, so his forehead was pressed against my shoulder.

"You always make everything better De- you're always saving me." He declared in a slow exhale, his hazel eyes meeting mine, glowing with love and adoration, before slowly falling closed.

My eyes filled. My heart aching in ways I had forgotten were possible.

"I always will, Sammy." I promised, curling the arm that wasn't in my brother's hold around his chest.

I would protect Sam.

I would protect him from the nightmares.

I would protect him from the memories.

I would protect him from his own guilt complex.

I would protect him from the devil.

And I would protect him from the damn trials that were headed our way.

Because after all Sam had done for me, and after all he had done for the world, he deserved to be protected.

Besides, it wasn't like I could live without the kid anyways.

He was all I had.

He was all I wanted.

And he was all I ever needed.

The devil wasn't getting him; his mind wasn't trapping him; and the trials weren't stealing him from me.

Because he was my little brother.

He was my family.

He was my kid.

He was my Sammy.

And he always would be.

Anyone or anything that wanted to challenge that fact, would answer to me.

And I would teach them the same thing I had taught every bully, every human, every angel, every demon, and every monster that had ever dared to hurt my kid brother.

You mess with Sammy.

I rip your fucking lungs out.

_The End_

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Note: Thanks so much for reading! I would love to know what you though, so please if you have a moment, could you maybe leave a comment/review? I would really appreciate your feedback, it would mean so much to me! Thanks again! - Sam


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